Music is important to most of us, but we’re fussy not only about what we listen to, but also when we listen to it. At one point, we’d want to listen to a Bach cantata; at another, we’d like to hear the Supremes; one evening, a Robbie Williams song is appealing to us; the next evening, we’re eager to hear a Mozart aria. Why do certain sound modulations (sometimes paired with a few words) seem to be so essential to us at certain times and not at others?
To understand why we must consider a strange yet fundamental fact about ourselves. We are highly emotional beings, yet not all of our feelings make it to the forefront of our conscious awareness when they need to. They exist, but only in a dormant, muffled, and underdeveloped form. There’s too much noise both outside and inside: we’re under pressure at work; we have a lot to do at home; the news is on; we’re catching up with friends.
Yet, in the background, we may be storing the raw material for a variety of profound and potentially very important emotions: grief, sorrow, a sense of tender generosity towards humanity in general, a quiet sense of the beauty of modesty, or pity for ourselves – for all the mistakes we didn’t mean to make, all the ways we didn’t properly return love when it was offered. These emotions, along with a slew of others, serve as emotional receptacles for great understanding. However, they may not have the influence they would want in our lives if they aren’t given enough time and care to grow. They live in us as jumbled, faint impulses — barely discernible, easily overlooked blips of feeling, unanalyzed raw substance. As a result, the beauty, kindness, solaces, and power that they could provide us never entirely emerges; we carry a legacy of unfelt emotions within us.
This is why music is so important: it amplifies and encourages us. Specific pieces of music provide support and strength to vital yet shaky emotional states. A euphoric tune intensifies the faint but exuberant sense that we could love everyone and find genuine joy in life; things that were out of reach become closer; and there’s so much that could be accomplished. These sensations occur on a daily basis, but they are hidden by the urge to be constrained, careful, and restrained. Now the song propels them ahead and instils confidence in them; it creates an environment in which they may flourish; and with this support, we can – and should – take them more seriously and give them a larger role in our lives.
A sombre, delicate piece could be able to bring our buried emotions to the surface. We can more easily feel sorry for the ways we’ve hurt others under its encouraging tutelage; we can pay more attention to our own inner pain (and thus be more appreciative of small acts of gentleness from others); we become more aware of universal suffering, that everyone loses the things they love; and that everyone is burdened with regrets. A caring aspect of us that is ordinarily difficult to access becomes more visible with the use of certain chords.
A fresh sort of music may awaken us and hasten our pace, taking up our low-key urges to action and self-transformation. We want to march to its beat and put our efforts to the greatest possible use while there is still time. Other tunes, on the other hand, might bolster our fragile sense that some things don’t really matter: the meeting didn’t go so well, but so what? In the end, it’s not that essential; the kitchen was a little untidy, but it’s not a huge concern in the grand scheme of things. Our perspective reserves are awakened, and we’re strengthened in our ability to deal with minor irritations that would otherwise derail us.
Music, like an amplifier with its signal, does not create emotion; it amplifies what already there. One can be concerned that increasing an emotion could be dangerous at times. After all, not everything we think is deserving of our support. It is conceivable to employ music to amplify sentiments of hatred or inflate violent impulses – and fascist dictatorships’ cultural ministries have proved terribly adept at doing so. However, we virtually always have a different problem when it comes to music: we don’t have the confidence to destroy society. We want to improve our ability to be peaceful, forgiving, loving, and appreciative.
We’re looking for the ideal soundtrack for our life when it comes to music. A film’s soundtrack aids in giving a scene the appropriate emotional impact. It allows us to record the true tragedy of a situation, which would otherwise be overlooked if we depended just on words and visuals; it allows us to completely recognize a moment’s individuality.
The same is true in our lives: we’re continuously confronted with circumstances in which something substantial is occurring; the useful emotional reaction is present in the back of our brains – but it’s suppressed and drowned out by the ambient noise of living. Music is the antidote to noise: it is the antidote to noise. We’re adding an accompanying soundtrack by choosing the correct piece of music at the right time, which accentuates the feelings we should be experiencing more strongly – and allows our own best reactions to be more apparent and secure. We eventually experience the feelings that are owed to us. We live in accordance with our own feelings.
As a result, I hope that this blog article may inspire readers who have never considered why someone listens to specific songs frequently and considers the benefits that person may derive from doing so. It’s also a wonderful time to reflect on what music means to you, and perhaps take your favorite song, sit back, relax, and push play… Alternatively, you might turn it loud and dance around to it… There’s no right or wrong way to do things, after all!
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